


don't pass me by

by cupidsintern



Series: also on tumblr! [16]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Arguing, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Self-Esteem Issues, additionally - Freeform, steve is also going thru it ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern
Summary: They weren’t like that. Weren’t like, stupid fuzzy feelings or “this made me think of you’s” or… you know. Boyfriends. The word made Billy cringe to think about.They were stupid, urgent, coincidences and “come over my parents aren’t home’s.”Which Billy liked. He liked that. And didn’t need or want anything serious. He just needed an outlet and Steve didn’t hate him anymore.Except maybe now he did again. Because only pervs steal your shit out of the showers when you’re not looking.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: also on tumblr! [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725826
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	don't pass me by

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlashMountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashMountain/gifts).



> hey nerd. this is for u. dont worry abt it

Billy hated his ceiling. Maybe it was because it’s what he always stared at when things were going to shit, so it’s like. Association or whatever. But he was staring at it now, flat on his back in bed, his warm and halfway comfortable bed- but never as comfortable as Steve’s. Steve’s bed was bigger- fucking. King size or whatever.

_Stop thinking about his bed._

_Stop thinking about him in_ general. 

Because that was- it was probably over. 

Short lived. Amazing. Over. 

Over because Billy was just a fucking dumbass about everything, huh. Just _had_ to take that little fucking bottle out of the showers, just to have. Hold. _Smell_. Smell over and over like a fucking pervert and then Steve _found_ it and _asked_ _about it_ and they weren’t like that. Weren’t like, stupid fuzzy feelings or “ _this made me think of you’s”_ or… you know. _Boyfriends._ The word made Billy cringe to think about. 

They were stupid, urgent, coincidences and _“come over my parents aren’t home’s.”_

Which Billy liked. He liked that. And didn’t need or want anything serious. He just needed an outlet and Steve didn’t hate him anymore. 

Except maybe now he did again. Because only pervs steal your shit out of the showers when you’re not looking. 

Usually, on Fridays, they met up at the quarry. 

Today was Friday. And Billy was in bed, the sun long since set, laying on his back in bed, staring at his stupid ceiling. 

-

Steve had never actually been stood up before. It was, you know, heartbreaking. Sitting in his car, _Erasure_ low on the radio, hands shoved deep in pockets, freezing his ass off cause he was stupid enough to drive over with exactly enough gas to get home and he’d sort of assumed his car wouldn’t _stay_ cold. And usually Billy showed up at nine, but now it was ten, eleven, eleven thirty…

Steve left at midnight. 

Drove home. Dove into bed after cranking the heat all the way up in the house. Like he used to do before this all started. Just so he wouldn't forget what being warm felt like 

And at first, he was heartbroken. Hugging one of his pillows way too tightly thinking how he wished all his stuffed animals weren’t in storage- pathetic. 

Then he was angry. 

Pissed right the fuck off because who the _fuck_ did Billy think he was just bailing without notice like that. Steve didn’t want to do this _again_ , didn’t want to be hung out to dry again. Billy always called if he couldn’t make it. Steve checked the voicemail tape like three times. He had not called. He had just. Not shown. 

Maybe Steve should have been worried, maybe that would have made more sense, but Steve felt like he sort of knew what was up. His suspicions were confirmed at school on Monday, when Billy straight up walked past Steve, not making eye contact, no acknowledgement whatsoever, which- Monday? Really, Billy? Leaving Steve three whole days to walk around his house wishing someone was there, no one to eat breakfast with on Saturday, no one to beg to come back on Sunday, no one in bed when he rolled over in his sleep, only to wake all the way up because his bed was empty. His stupid big bed. What was the point of sleeping in it just him. It needed two people. 

Maybe he should just sleep on the floor. Maybe it’d shove his heart back together. 

-

Billy avoided Steve like the plague. He should have known it was too good to be true. Should have never fucking slept with Steve in the first place- he already liked Steve. Already liked him way too much when Steve forgave him- first positive interaction they had. Billy was scared of Steve. Not like how other things- other people- scared him. This was different. He was scared of how Steve kissed him all tender and made him feel like his heart was melting and how a person could very very easily get addicted to that feeling- of mattering. 

Billy didn’t need any addiction beyond his control. 

He’d done it anyway. Slept with Steve. More than once. A lot of times by now. Time enough that if he stayed Steve would make him breakfast and Steve made the best egg sandwiches- that Billy would probably never have again. 

Every time he thought that it was like getting the wind knocked out of him. He felt like he had to sit down to catch his breath. Made him feel like crying. 

Steve might never make him breakfast again. 

-

Steve spent a business week in turmoil- Monday-Friday. Monday was shock and panic- Billy was avoiding him, what if Billy avoided him forever. Tuesday was confusion- what the fuck had Steve done to get Billy to avoid him. Wednesday was the day he tried to get Billy to talk to him- hell, look at him- literally four times to no avail. Thursday was just pure rage. Which bled into Friday. Because Steve was not gonna let this happen again. Was not going to let someone drop him just because they Felt like it, no. Absolutely not. If Billy wanted to get rid of him? He should have the balls to say it to Steve's face. 

All that anger was just covering up the feeling Steve had of- this again. 

Made sense. 

Everyone got bored of Steve eventually. He just… he had really hoped it would stick this time. This time had felt different. Maybe because Billy was a guy and it was secret and taboo or whatever. But also because. Dunno. Steve felt like Billy… got him. He had thought he got Billy. 

Apparently not, though. 

-

Billy successfully avoided talking to Steve for a whole week, but it felt like Steve was just getting More Determined. What did he even fucking want with Billy? Billy knew he fucked up, knew he blew his one chance by showing his hand like a fucking rookie. Like he’d never hooked up anyone before. He had. 

Like he’d never felt this way about anyone before. He hadn’t. 

Steve probably wanted like, closure or whatever. Wanted to officially _end things_ for his pride's sake. Wanted to make it “clear,” that he never wanted anything that serious. Never wanted Billy beyond his bedroom walls. 

Billy didn’t want that. Billy didn’t want to have the hard conversation, didn’t want Steve to keep lording his own emotions over him like when he found that stupid shampoo bottle in his gym bag. He wanted to just… pretend it never happened. Pretended the most wonderful- the closest to _good_ month he’d ever had just hadn't happened. It would have been easier that way. If he never knew Steve. Never got this close to him, to feeling like this. Billy was used to feeling bad. But not to feeling bad from _missing the good._

It was so much fucking worse to know what the good felt like. 

Billy was hoping this would just _go away_ when he stayed for a full hour after school got out to just sit behind the gym and smoke and _wait_ so Steve would have already left and they wouldn’t run into each other and he could go back to, dunno, wishing to be struck by lightning or whatever. Let God strike him down. Maybe that would mean he meant something. 

Jesus, he shouldn’t be alone with his thoughts. 

He got up from his crouch, dusted himself off a little because the gravel behind the gym made him depressed, flicked the butt of his cigarette and walked back to the far end of the parking lot. Where he parked out of habit now because it was easy to skip out without anyone seeing your car leave. Steve knew all of Billy's habits like the back of his hand. So, of course, despite Billy's best efforts, as he turned the corner to get to his car, there was Steve. Looking pensively out, away from Billy, leaning against the driver’s side of Billy’s car. 

Like he had the right. 

He did. 

Steve had more right to anything Billy claimed than he himself did. 

Steve saw him. Billy couldn’t turn back now. He walked all the way up to a few feet away from the car. 

Steve didn’t move from where he was standing blocking the driver’s side. 

Billy nodded his head away a little, did not make eye contact. “Come on, Harrington.”

Billy had seen Steve angry before, obviously. But he’d never seen anger appear on Steve never seen warm burnt sugar eyes go dark and jaw tense and mouth set and-

“ _Harrington_?” Steve bit out. “What happened to ‘pretty boy’?”

“Dunno. I’d like to get in my car now.” Billy took a step closer. 

“You ‘don’t know’?” Steve repeated, hands 

“No, I don’t,” Billy tried again, Steve blocked him again. “What do you _want_?”

“You stood me up.” Steve sounded like he wanted to be yelling, and was making the tactful choice not to. “I don’t like being stood up.”

“I don’t like not being able to get into my own _fucking car_ -“

“And you’re ignoring me! Why are you-“

“Can’t ignore you now.”

“Can you stop being such a dick for five seconds-“

“Nope.”

Steve, on a total impulse, reached forward to grab for Billy’s keys. He almost got them, too, almost twisted them out of Billy's grasp before Billy pushed him off and took a step back again. Like he was scared. His boots scrapped on the concrete. 

Steve felt bad. But no, he didn’t. He felt-

“Why are you ignoring me.”

“Because I don’t like conversations like this.” Billy was seriously considering walking home.

“Conversations like _what_?”

“Like where I have to ask for my stuff back!” Billy snapped. “And- and you call me a dick which you already did and I just thought it would be easier if we just. Let it go.” 

“Your _stuff back_?” That wasn’t the tone Billy was expecting. He’d been ready for something more along the lines of “screw you” and less… less of this tone that made it sound like Steve didn’t want to give him his stuff back. He wanted to keep it, wanted Billy to, if necessary, pry it from his cold dead hands. Like it was his now. 

“What, you wanna keep my shit to burn or something?”

“I-“

“Cause obviously you don’t want to be hooking up with an “obsessive stalker” right?” Billy put air quotes around the word. 

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, _Harrington_.” Billy finally pushed past Steve, got his key in the lock, pulled the door open. 

“Wait,” Steve turned around, tried to hold the door open. “Is this about the shampoo thing?”

“Fuck you.” 

“Billy, wait-“

“No, I don’t need your little pride saving power trip-“

“Billy-“

“Fuck off.” Billy yanked the door closed, turned the ignition. 

Steve grabbed Billy's shoulder through the open window. “I don’t wanna give you your shirt back because I jerked off wearing it.” 

Billy's head snapped up. Jesus, that was one way to get a guy's attention. 

The camaro’s engine hummed in the silence before- “ _What_?” Billy stopped trying to leave altogether. 

“You’re mad cause you think I think it’s like, embarrassing or something you stole my shampoo, right?”

Billy didn’t say anything. Just held Steve's gaze. 

“So. I said an embarrassing thing I do.”

Still no response. 

“Tit for tat.”

“You called me a stalker-“

“I was kidding!-“

“You could have said that-“

“You could have _talked to me_!”

Billy didn’t have anything to say to that. 

“You could have fucking talked to me, Billy.” Steve's grip has slid down Billy's shoulder. Now it was just sort of gently holding his arm. And he didn’t sound mad but he sounded… hurt. 

“I…” Billy was bad at this, he was so bad at this. “I’m... yeah.” He murmured the last part. “I should have.”

Steve just stared at where he held Billy’s arm. 

Billy should probably say something constructive, something like ‘I’m sorry” or “Are you okay.” Instead, all he could think about was _Steve jerking off into his shirt_ like that meant something more personal somehow and all he same up with was “Do you actually-“

“ _Yes_.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Which is a lot worse than just. Taking soap.”

Billy almost smiled at that. “I dunno. Think they’re about even.” 

Even on the list of psycho shit people do when they are so unfortunate as to have feelings. 

“I’m sorry I called you a stalker.” Steve said eventually.

Billy shrugged in response. He might have… overreacted. Because, I mean. It was Steve. 

“This is the part where u say you won’t stand me up again.” Steve said more quietly. 

It sort of sunk in then, what small but very _there_ damage billy had done. “I won’t stand you up again.”

“And don’t ever ask me for your stuff back, freaks me the fuck out.”

“What about my _Van Halen_ tape-“

“I need you to not be a jackass for five seconds while I recover from almost being broken up with.” Steve leaned his forehead against the edge of Billy’s car window, closed his eyes, still holding Billy’s arm. 

“Okay.” 

When Steve looked up from his, maybe a touch dramatic, moment of pause, Billy was staring at him. Which, after a week of not being looked at at all, was a fucking relief. Steve felt warm again when Billy looked at him. 

“I _really_ like you.” Steve said finally. “Do you… do you get that?”

Billy almost said no. He hesitated, but Steve read that for what it was. 

“’Cause I really do.” Steve looked so… earnest. “Not talking to you made me fucking crazy.”

Billy wasn't so good with words and feelings at the same time. Steve was only good at it by accident anyway. 

“What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking I want to kiss you but we are. In a pretty open parking lot.” Billy admitted, tried to make it sound less intense than it felt. 

Steve smiled, finally. A relieved, nervous smile. “See you later?” A genuine question.

That’s right, it was Friday. “See you.” Billy nodded. 

Steve could probably let him go now. He didn't want to, tough. Billy didn't pull away at all. 

They sat like that for a little longer, maybe just making up for the lost time.


End file.
